A Child Bride
by agirlcalledprissy
Summary: AU Dark Wins! There is no hope allowed in the new world order of the Dark Lord. With an unexpected betrayal from James Potter, Lord Voldemort rules New Britain with an iron fist. 17 years later, Hermione escapes from the Graduation of the Academy. Warning: Dark Themes and Plot-twists! Future TMR/HP! HG/! LV/HP!
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Child Bride

Pairings: TMR/HP, LV/HP, HG/?

Warning: graphic themes and implied scenes of violence

Author note: Hey again, this is Prissy again. This may be a long story, but I heavily edited my thoughts to censor the really bad stuff. I am also beta-less. Enjoy!

* * *

**Hermione's Arc**

The year was 1980; the righteous Death Saviors ended the ministry and, leader of the Order of phoenix, Albus Dumbledore's reign over the Wizarding world of Britain. Credits go to James Potter, a Pureblood whom was a double agent for the Dark for destroying the Order of Phoneix's secret weapon. His Highness, Lord Voldemort, Emperor of British Isles and head of the Slytherin family succeeded in ushering a New Era: The Age of the Dark. The Death Saviors established a utopia from the ruins of Old Britain and furthermore, all of the traitors to Wizarding Britain were sent to rehabilitation. However, the fugitive Albus Dumbledore still remains at large.

-An except from A History of the British Isles; P. 3

* * *

Hermione grumbled as she read this chapter many times over. In her youth, she had convinced herself that she would be the special exception in the system through studying witchcraft and wizardry. This was never going to happen. The government that ruled over New Britain was one of terror and strict rules. Lord Voldemort erased all traces of old Britain and imprisoned most of the muggles as slaves. The muggles who opposed this were killed in the Catacombs of Old London and used as a structure of the gruesome grave site. As a new sport, the later generation of muggles were sent into the Catacombs and never return.

At the top of the system, a pureblood could get away with anything even if it meant killing a mudblood. However, only the oldest and most influential dark families could be in politics. The light magic families were banned from much of the government system and relied only on trade and scholarly endeavours. But both light and dark children were taught to strive towards the Vanguards – an order devoted to the cause of dark and the protectors of His Highness, Lord Voldemort. The captain of the Vanguard is Bellatrix Lestrange whose cruelty towards muggles and mudbloods were legendary. Most of the light idealists whom go into the Vanguards become alcoholics or severely depressed at the sight of the true purpose of the order: Kill all who opposed the government. The rule even applies to their parents or cousins. Eventually, the light in all of the new recruits grow cold and distant. Emotionless and with steel-like minds, they guard the secrets of the empire from the palace steps.

To an extent, a half-blood could reach the skies in the new world order. However, the successful paths open to half-bloods were the Defence Baracks and for a few, the Dormio. The defence barracks were similar to the military in Old Britain. However, legilimency tests are a cornerstone of the sect and brainwashing is the norm; the members of the DB care nothing for their previous relationships after joining the DB. Lord Voldemort personally sees to the Dormio and trains all of the sleeper agents under potions and secrecy. Not much is known about them, but all sleeper agents are assumed under aliases and go about their daily lives – never remembering if they ever were a part of the department.

At the bottom of the food-chain, there are the denizens of old Britain: muggles and Mudbloods. Abducted by the government in infancy, being a Mudblood meant a life of servitude; Mudblood males were considered inferior and are taught only the most basic of magic. Most of the males are destined for general labour in the Catacombs of Old Britain. Mudblood females are cleansed of all desires in the Academy for Proper Ladies and those who were either beautiful or intelligent in the ways of magic were turned into pureblood sows – damned into a life of bearing many purebloods' children and creating a new generation of Half-bloods. The 'unlucky' girls were sold into household slavery for the rich purebloods with a bleeding mouth and no voice to displease the masters.

The Academy only taught lies and fantasies about the new world order. At the tender age of 4, all of the females, whom are found with magical symptom through strict testing, are brought to the Academy for Proper Ladies. Muggles and squibs are sweet-talked with stories of education and a better future; This is never the case. Hermione laments at the thought of daily beatings and gripping loneliness in her youth. The only thing which kept her alive was a memory: a little shack by the river. Hermione was the tender age of six when she went on a field trip with heavy supervision. She could taste her freedom; it was so close but so far.

* * *

It was the night before Graduation in the Academy. Most of the graduates are unaware of the impending future. Most girls were already selected for either a housekeeping position or a spot in the Breeding houses. The few whom tried to escape before had their tongues removed and wands snapped. Tonight, the escapees were going into the Catacombs alone and most likely, die by the hands of the insane cannibalistic muggles who roam there.

It was a quiet night; a new moon hung in the sky. Hermione looked around in her dorm from the top of her bunk-bed. There were four girls in a room: Alice, Wendy, and Bella (1). They were all fast asleep – too gullible and hateful of Hermione's talents to see that they were in danger. All graduates were required to wear an enchanted metal cuff on their ankle. But, Hermione was not the best student in the graduating year for nothing. She had stolen a wand from the transfiguration classroom. There were no runes preventing a person from transfigurating the cuff to a living creature?

"_Pullus! (2)_" The brunette witch whispered, pointing to the cuff. The cuff became a live geese and started to gawk at her. Hermione's cautious nature got the better of her and she muttered a quick 'Silenico' at the geese before quickly grabbing her bag of belongings and escaped through the window.

_Rrrrrr! Rrrrrr!_

The alarms already sounded as the brave young woman leapt from the academy's roof into the dark slums of Wizarding Britain via the planned communal garbage bin. Hermione had planned this through the early months of her senior year. She had studied the more dangerous route to a rumoured hideout for runaways and calculated the ratio from a comparison of the two likely routes. Most would take the path towards the Catacombs: '_Better to die before sent to the whore houses?_' But she was determined to join those who opposed the Dark reign: The Order of Phoenix.

Hermione paused to listen to her surroundings before searching for another hideout. She was on borrowed time; she had to get across to a small shack near the outskirts of the district – a place she had visited as a child on a fieldtrip.

Her eyes widen with fear when she heard loud footsteps and shouting of "Find the Mudblood welches!" The members of the DB was on to her already! The silhouettes of the green robed wizards stalked the cobblestone of the slums of the Squib districts. As Hermione whispered a quiet '_silencio_' on herself, she decided to lay low in one of the windowless shacks in maze-like alleyways.

With a brave heart, the witch opened one of the doors to embrace the dangers of the darken shack. Her pants for air came out wild and eyes searching for any enemies-

A gnarly hand covered her open mouth as Hermione started to silently scream. Her limbs thrashed with dying strength, she stared in defiance at her kidnapper: an old frail lady. The lady gestured to the old table in a dirty corner of the living room. There sat a dying bird statue burning in ash.

Hermione started to realize the true meaning of the statue and started to sob with joy. The statue was supposed to be in a cycle - a phoenix rising and dying in a cycle of rebirth. _She was safe, she was safe!_ But old woman opened the sink cabinet and revealed a metal door. Her hand pointed to a handle with urgent jabbing. Hermione gasped and tried to explain that she was leaving this place but found no sound coming out.

Withdrawing the wand from her robes, she nonverbally casted, "_Finite_."

"I have to go to the little shack on the edge of town. My friends are waiting for me to help them to here." Hermione stated confidently to the old woman.

She was met with a dead silent stare from the old woman. The old lady sighed and asked softly, "What is your name? I am Ms. Figg."

Hermione was never treated kindly by the staff of the Academy and answered with a squeak, "M-my name is Hermione! I don't have a last name because… because"

"Because what, my dear?"

"Mudbloods like me don't get a last name."

Her head hung low as she remembered the cruel beatings and crying for her probably dead parents. They were most likely gone, as with all of the girls in the Academy.

"Nonsense! You shall take my last name." Ms. Figg said with a sad smile. The old lady grew somber as she declined Hermione's demand: "I'm afraid you can't see your friends. You see, the Dark Lord put these craziest thoughts into the girls. The small shack isn't a safe haven; it's a death trap. All the pretty girls who go there don't come back. Many of the squibs that live in the Training Grounds are paid off by the government to watch for the girls who pass through this place."

Hermione was struck with the horrible realization of how she survived: _it was pure chance_. In the distance, her ears registered high pitched shrieks and maniacal laughter which dimmed into quiet sobs. She did not want to think about what will happen to the many girls tonight.

"They're coming. There isn't much time! Take this! Go to 1031 Gallon Way; the house is marked with a red tree. May Merlin bless you on this journey!" Ms. Figg whispered fearfully, pushing a few gold coins and an ordinary key. "Don't worry, I'll be safe."

With a surprising strength from the frail woman, she opened the metal door and pushed the brunette into the abyss. The locks closed from the inside and Ms. Figg knew Hermione was safe as she heard a sliding noise from her cabinet. After closing the cabinet, she clutched the statue of the dying bird tightly. She was waiting for the dark wizards to come.

Within a few minutes, the door was rammed down with a loud '_Bombarda'_. The green-robed wizards quickly entered the one-room shack. "Ut etiam in lucem splendescere!(3)" Ms. Figg exclaimed. The portkey triggered a large explosion from the magical device. The flames engulfed many of the wizards which entered the shack and the surrounding shacks. The wizards screamed as they were burnt beyond recognition.

As the remaining of the squadron searched the scorched shacks, they found nothing but rumbles of wood and dead bodies. They did not check if the old woman was still alive - only assuming that she died as the building collapsed. Unaware of the secret escape tunnel, the wizards went back to their stations with loud profanities towards Squibs..

* * *

1 – These are temporary OCs

2 – this is a legitimate spell from Harry Potter universe; known as the Pullus Jinx

3 – Translate of 'may the light shine again'

Next - ?'s POV

A/N: There will be plot twists. if you notice that some details or illogical aspects of this story, it's probably a detail that will be further explained in the later chapters. But who would you pair Hermione with? (please comment on this!)

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	2. Chapter 2

**Hermione's Arc: Cont'd **

Hermione heard loud thunders of water rushing after surviving the fall from the escape tunnel. It was the aquaducts that reached all of Magical Britain. Mixtures of sunlight from above and the darkness of the tunnels reflected in the water streaming out towards the ocean. Hermione landed in one of the main She had not planned this far; she expected to be enslaved or killed by the DB. The awful feeling of her brief friendship with her savior lingered. _I hope Ms. Figg is alright…_ Hermione thought. Drenched in soggy sewer water, she shivered and decided to take off the outer most robes and carry them. She did not want to die from a cold in this place anyways. She started down the tunnel aimlessly.

Day and night did not matter in the aquaducts. She walked for what seemed to be miles before she was met with the sounds of distant singing. The jingling of metal and rustling of bags filled the tunnels. Huddled in a damp and dark corner close to the concrete river, she decided to wait and see if the travelers were fugitives like her before running away. The singing rose to a crescendo:

_Yoho ho! Whose's the greatest merchants_

_On the weary land? _

_That'll be the Weasley Brothers!_

_That'll be us!_

_Our wares and fares are fair!_

_Maidens fawn and swoon over us!_

_Whom dares to chance fate!_

_That'll be us!_

_Yoho ho! Whose's the greatest merchants_

_On the weary land? _

_That'll be the Weasley Brothers!_

_That'll be us!_

Muscular young men with fiery red mops of hair were lugging two giant bags of assorted goods. The two laughed at each other's jokes and called themselves, 'Gred' and 'Forge'. To Hermione's relief, they did not seem to notice her constant shivering and soft coughing. Even though the brothers acted cheery and immature, their blue eyes had a certain hardness and joy that was stripped away from them. The Weasley brothers must have notice the shivering lump; they whistled and greet where she was hiding, "Hey there, little lady. Wanna browse our wares? We got clothes and food – for a good price."

_I must look like a drowned rat… _

With clattering teeth, Hermione had replied, "Y-you have food and clothing? I need to get somewhere too." She remembered that she received a few gold coins from Ms. Figg from her ordeal and inspected them to be authentic galleons. Wary of kind strangers, she asked nervously, "What kind of dress and shoes for 2 galleons?"

"We have plenty of dresses from half-blood to pureblood attire-"

"For shoes, we're afraid that we only have cow leather boots. Both are for a galleon and a few sickles."

"By the way, I'm Fred Weasley."

"And I'm George Weasley. We're the Weasley twins! Surely, you have heard of us?"

"I'm Hermione. Um, I'm afraid not." Hermione mumbled. _Probably, she must have struck a deal with some bandits. And now she'll have to pay the price. _Hermione's sensible side stated. _But it was hard to find other people who seem to know where they're going! _Her Griffindor instincts argued.

"We, of the House of Weasley, are protectors of the muggles and muggleborn! Stealing from the rich and giving it to the poor!" Both twins chorused in a prepared speech. Hermione found out that there were still families or pureblood houses that supported the old regime. The Weasleys became a gathering of muggle liberators and outlaw merchants to survive the Dark Lord's rule. The elder Weasleys were gifted at dragon-taming and curse-breaking while the younger Weasleys, barring the two youngest, were merchants. Fred proceeded to unravel one of the huge bags from the ends and took out a wide variety of colourful dresses while George took to finding a decent pair of shoes from the other bag.

"You want a full-gown or just an over-the-knee dress? I think purple will look better on you." George murmured. He gestured Hermione to stand while he casted multiple cleaning charms and cut her hair into a frizzy bob. "Wouldn't want the DB to notice you just by your hair? They take yearly photos of muggleborns to keep track of them."

"What do you mean by 'muggleborns'?"

The twins looked dumbstruck and shook their heads. Fred replied, "Muggleborn is a proper term for magical descendants from muggles. Many people have their own theories of how muggles got their hands on magic, but Lord Voldie says it's because of muggles stealing magic from the 'proper' folk."

George offered Hermione the purple dress with black boots to test it out. Taking out his wand, George cast an obscuring charm on Hermione. He then said with a cheeky grin, "I know how ladies are all over us. But, save your modesty."

Hermione tittered and put on the offered clothes. She looked better than the mess of a uniform she had on before. The modest, yet shimmering fabric embellished her petite arms and suited her bell-bottom figure. She seemed like a modern Vivienne, the fabled Lady of the Lake. She counted two galleons from her hidden money pocket within her school robes, but in her haste, dropped Ms. Figg's key in front of the two merchants.

"Where is you get that?" Fred stated, with narrowing suspicion. Noticing Fred's reaction, George pointed his wand at Hermione; the wand signaled a world of pain if she lied. George then took two small bottles of clear liquid and shook it.

"From an old lady." Hermione stammered. She did not want to get the poor Ms. Figg into more trouble as it is.

"By the name of?"

"Her last name is Figg."

"Administer the Veritaserum." Fred declared, with a grim flourish from his hand.

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione cried before being forced a tasteless potion into her mouth. The two drops from the bottle was enough to spill any spies' secrets.

"Seeing if you are really one of us. There are spies everywhere."

"Who are you?"

"Hermione… Figg."

"Are you really Hermione Figg?"

"Yes"

"When were you born?"

"September 19, 1979."

"Are you one of Voldemort's spies?"

"No."

"Do you believe in the Rise of the Phoenix?"

"Yes!"

"What happened to Ms. Figg?"

She emotionlessly told of Ms. Figg's sacrifice; how she protected her from the DB wizards. There was a moment of silence before George had then allowed Hermione to drink the counter potion. She started to wail in her grief of her idealist plan - the plan that doomed many other girls. All of the events, shame, regret and grief, rushed through her psyche and would haunt her dreams for the rest of her days. The brothers awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back; they were used to comforting the runaways.

After a moment of silence for the fallen, George solemnly asked, "Where do you need to go?"

"1030 Galleon Way. Ms. Figg wanted me to join the Phoenix."

Fred whistled loudly and said, "Rich neighborhood. Probably, a day's trip through the aquaducts, but longer if you went through the muggle channels."

George explained further about 1030 Galleon Way: "It was not a hide-out, but a job offer to protect something inside the residency. Usually, Ms. Figgs and members with more seniority in the Order would take the position but they were known to the public as Undesirables and fugitives from the law. A muggle-born or half-blood would easily blend into the crowd of socialite purebloods and their parties by just serving dishes. It seems like a demeaning position, yet, it also gave sensitive information to the Order of the Phoenix. The object within your mission is highly valued by the Order. Protecting it is your mission. Do whatever it takes to complete it."

The twins were a part of the supporters of the Order, but were unmarked for security reasons. However, they would help in any way they could to ensure the Phoenix escaped from the blight of darkness. Hermione was relieved to have some new friends that she could trust.

Hermione and her guides went into the night with blazing hope in their heart. They would be the new generation of hope that would surely end the plague which hangs over Britain.

* * *

The Township of Mordrenson was a stark contrast from the Academy. Unlike the looming iron fences of the Academy, the circular town was decorated with spring flowers and cream coloured brick. Little trinket shops and cafes line the town square; all were run by the half-blood whom lived in the apartments above. All of the townspeople consisted of half-bloods and pure-bloods, however, it was a common occurrence to see mud-blood servants and half-blood errand boys. Although there was only a population of 600, many purebloods from different townships come here for business meetings in the township of Mordrenson.

Hermione tried to be nonchalant and not attract attention on her way to the supposed location of 1030 Galleon Way. However, some had sneaked glances of the brunette witch. Most would suspect that she was a favoured servant of a high-class pureblood by the modest lilac dress she had bought off the fiery twins. Hermione must have looked very strange without her long frizzy hair due to the waves and smiles from the young gentlemen that passed by. Her wavy bob was passable for a young girl of half-blood status. Nonetheless, she had fingered her hair in a display of nervousness.

_I should have asked for better instructions from Fred and George… _Hermione lamented. _However, they would have charged more for the extra explanation and guidance._ After Hermione and the twins separated at the sewer entrance to the township, she was left with a light coin-purse. She had sneakily entered the township without any guards noticing.

"Well, hello there, young lady. I have not seen your beautiful self around." A large chin, and equally portly man introduced with a leering grin. "May I introduce myself as the Baron of Northern Britain, Lord Augustus Rookwood." He was dressed in an expensive and obnoxious lime green robe. Although he was vertically challenged, Lord Rookwood still towered over the young woman around 2 or 3 inches.

With a strong conviction, he then proceeded to grab Hermione's wrists with brute strength. Hermione nervously stammered, "Please let me go."

"Why would I do that? I bet you're a half-blood homeless - or even a filthy mud-blood. I've seen you pacing the same area over an hour." Lord Rookwood challenged.

"I-I am waiting for my boyfriend."

"Rookwood! Unhand my girlfriend!" An unknown voice called out. It was a young man with wavy brown hair. His posture screamed of reliability and command; however, he held a small frown and quickly rescued Hermione from the dangerous man. He placed his left arm around Hermione in a tight side embrace and offered a smile towards the distressed maiden.

"Ser Diggory, I was unware that you were courting someone. But I highly suggest to hand the girl over to me for inspection. She clearly is not one of us – even without a proper escort. This young lady reeks of impure blood."

With a strong tone, Ser Diggory stood with conviction and proclaimed, "I doubt so. My family has chosen her for me and I trust their judgement."

"I knew you were a filthy bloodtraitor just like your father!"

At this time, most of the curious strangers that were walking by, stopped and listened into the conversation. They were eager for some drama amongst the Baron and the young Knight – even a bit of blood.

At this time, Ser Diggory merely sighed and replied, "I am a sworn knight of the emperor's vanguard. I serve loyally to my lord, and you are a merely half-blood spy with a trumped-up title from the old war. Please walk away or I will be forced to cut off your hand as per custom of another man touching a pureblood's betrothed!"

Ser Diggory unveiled his wand from the hidden holster of his robe as a subtle threat – as if challenging the portly Baron. By this time, Lord Rookwood seemed insulted by the phrase, 'half-blood', but decided against dueling Ser Diggory for his honour. Lord Rookwood wasn't stupid; he knew that all of the Vanguards are trained with deadly magic and skill.

Lord Rookwood sneered and muttered, "Ain't worth my time to deal, you low-lives!" He pushed away from the small circle of by-standers whom recently gathered around to watch the dispute closely.

Ser Diggory then steered Hermione away in the opposite direction from the rude man. After a good few sweeps from the town-square, Ser Diggory asked the brunette witch with a sheepish grin, "So what is your name again…?"

* * *

Ser Cedric Diggory was a loyal and intelligent man whom was apparently friends with the heir of 1030 Galleon Way. He graduated from Hogwarts, the pureblood school of wizardry and witchcraft, in 1995. He was the Quiddich Captain, and head boy in his year as well. Hogwarts sounded like a school which Hermione would enjoy immensely. Hermione continued to listen to his rambles, fascinated by the genuinely kind man. Like his father, He secretly supports the revival of the phoenix movement, but choses to try to change the government from within. When the war ended, the Diggorys were one of the few neutral families that were accepted into Lord Voldemort's rule but were kept largely away from active political affairs.

His father, Amos Diggory, had left England in protest of the new regime while his mother, Wisteria Bones (1), was allowed to relocate to the new Bones Manor in Mordrenson because of her family's neutral status. Cedric spent his childhood and most of his Hogwarts years studying law and ethics with his aunt, Amelia Bones, before being selected for knighthood with the Vanguards. There, he had acquired new living quarters for his heroic deeds and had a manor bequeathed to the Diggory name. Many low ranked pureblood heiresses eyed the handsome knight for his newfound wealth and status, but had little romantic intent towards anyone as of yet.

As Hermione and Cedric walked along the quiet lane towards the manor, Hermione broke the awkward silence and said, "Thank you… for saving me from that horrible man. I hope you will not get into trouble later."

"It is fine. Lord Rookwood and I have never seen eye-to-eye. Rookwood is an egotistic, narcissistic man but has little power to prove it. He is a man who would bully those who are without power to increase his own self-worth. My part in helping you was merely a kind gesture to do. Many people can't stand the man either." Cedric replied courteously.

He smiled and stopped in front of a beautifully built manor. _'1030 Galleon way. Solicitors are not welcome.'_ The lone golden plaque on the black iron gates stated. Two Griffin statuses guarded the entrance with cold eyes. Hermione shivered and gulped down her nervousness and pushed open the gates.

A strange wide-eyed creature in an ill-suited apron popped in and asked, "I be Leeks. What is Misses wants?"

"My name is Hermione Figg. I'm here for a job. Ms. Figg sent me here." Hermione stated awkwardly. "It's a house elf." Cedric whispered into her ear. "Most wealthy pureblood families have them."

The house elf, Leeks, popped to wherever his or her master was. Cedric said, "I'll wait 'til you're inside before I apparate back to my home. If you ever want to visit, just visit next door."

With another quiet pop, Leeks had came back and said, "Master is not here, but young master will see to you." The house elf took the nervous girl's hand and apparated with her.

The last thing she saw was Cedric's smile before entering a large marble room. The 18th century styled room was beautifully furnished with flowers and a roaring fire-place. Intricate white panels lined the walls while a rich deep burgundy rug was placed on the darkly stained wooden floor. A large piano, a Parlor grand, adorned the far right corner while a young boy had been playing a beautiful music piece. The long-haired boy had a strong, yet delicate body structure; his skin was a pale shade of cream – an obvious sign of poor health. The braided dark ebony hair was a feminine trait which most likely confused him with the fairer sex. On his side was a plain light brunette woman whom was instructing the boy in his musical studies.

Leeks announced Hermione's purpose to the servant, "Misses is here for a job." The two then conversed with quiet whispers and the servant sent the house-elf away with a wave. She beckoned Hermione to sit in one of fluffy couches. She had then called another house-elf to bring afternoon tea. Meanwhile, the dark-haired boy moved to be seated in a large armchair. Hermione walked towards the boy to shake his hand and introduce herself.

She was met with the most eerie shade of bright green eyes she had ever laid her eyes upon.

* * *

1 – Cedric's mother was never named by JK rowling; this is merely an OC character.

A/n: I've been quite busy with the start of summer semester. I'll probably update this story between one to two weeks.

Please follow, fav and review! That's the only way i know you fellow readers still like this fic!


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning:** mention of extreme violence and abuse; viewer's discretion is advised. Basically, "you dont like this stuff, you can close the window."

**Chapter 4: Lesser of two evils**

Haedus Erichthonius Potter (1) was born through the fruits of a loveless marriage between the notorious Light Traitor, James Charlus Potter, and the heiress of the lesser known French branch of Ravenclaw, Lady Annabelle Marie Polos. Named after the Polos tradition rather than the Potter customs, the dark-haired child was always ignored by his father; Haedus was raised by Lord Potter's head-maid, Willow. When the small child was born, it was rumoured among several pureblood circles that Lady Annabelle had bewitched a mudblood that looked similar in appearance to the Light Traitor and conceived Haedus in her hatred towards the House of Potter. These rumours were neither confirmed as blasphemy or the terrible truth due to Lady Annabelle's sudden death after the birth of her son. But it did explain Lord Potter's neglect of the boy.

Growing up in the Potter Manor was no large feat; Haedus had several stepmothers whom planned to murder him for their children's future. As the heir to Griffindor and Ravenclaw by blood and magic, he was already one of the most influential people in Magical Britain. Yet, the boy was constantly plagued by sickness and cold tremors. Nothing in modern potion-work could ease Haedus's loneliness and pain; he grew up in the prison of his bed until the age of seven. Haedus had limited freedom in his own body; however, he had transcended his mind through the magical history, spell-work and theory. He embodied much of the classical Ravenclaw traits when he was shown off to his extended family, the Blacks, Malfoy and other grey/dark families.

As a renaissance pureblood custom, each pureblood heir and heiress would acquire a half-blood servant to protect them from outside threats at the age of eleven. It was an old custom invented for the protection of the pureblood line and as such, the servant would be considered as a 'squire' line or new line of pureblood descent. The Crabbe and Goyle pureblood lines were lesser known 'squire' lines which would guard their pureblood Lord or heir. Eventually, these practices went out of fashion as the light factions took over the magical society and forced most pureblood traditions to be abandoned.

Haedus was surprised that a person of unknown origins would dare ask to serve him as a squire. A squire would be a companion for life and should not be considered as a mere job position. He surveyed the dark brunette whom shown up abruptly and disregarded all tradition to send for a courtesy letter first. He sighed and stood up to the offered hand. He proceeded to kiss the stunned young woman upon the hand.

"Welcome to our humble abode. May magic bless our meeting."

"Same to you. My name is Hermione Figg." The woman stuttered. Haedus took the time and did an once-over on the young maiden. Clearly, she was not familiar with magical tradition. _Probably, an ignorant half-blood or squib._

"As Leeks explained, I heard about a job position from my… grandmother, Ms. Figg. I was wondering if you would accept me. I can cook and clean!"

"I have house-elves for that. If that is the case, I am sorry to inform you that I have no need for a squire. Willow here," Harry snubbed the question and gesture to his feminine caretaker, who gave a polite short nod. "is most qualified for this role."

"But-but… I can't go back! They'll arrest me!" Miss Figg whispered, looking frantic.

"Why?" Haedus' eyebrows arched elegantly.

"I'm a… mudblood. I know I'm not qualified for any position, but please give me a chance."

Haedus hesitated and pondered the thought over. He remembered a similar conversation between his father and Willow's first meeting – the first time he had seen his father treat another human being with kindness.

* * *

_Haedus was a mere five year-old when he had been spying on his father and his two guests' conversation in the parlor room. He was supposedly 'grounded' and not allowed outside of his quarters in the attic, but he was too Griffindorish at times. His sleeping robes hung awkwardly over his small stature as he sneaked glances from the side of large doorway. _

"_Andromeda, please calm down-" Father had spoken in a low tone. His posture suggested a gentle, soothing touch when he wrapped his arms around the sobbing lady._

"_Ted, how could he leave us! I know it's been hard times for our family, but we've always pushed past it." Andromeda wailed._

"_You can always go back to the Black family." The elder Potter suggested._

"_I can't. I'm disherited from the family and Uncle Alphard just passed away. Who will look after Nymphadora?!" The lady cried. "I could only turn to you now. Aunt Dorea's your mother. Please, look after Nymphadora for me. I can't let my family destroy or do unspeakable things to her just because of her blood status."_

_His father sighed in grim acceptance and stated, "Nymphadora can stay but I can't let anyone know of her true heritage as a Black. I'll pretend she's a new servant and pass her off as one of my bastard children."_

_The dark curly-haired lady sniffled in response and thanked, "Magic bless you!" She continued to wail and bawl into her handkerchief, mourning the loss of a beloved husband. _

_His father finally noticed Haedus' small figure and yelled, "Go back to your room! Guests are here!"_

_Andromeda glimpsed at the boy and whispered, "Oh dear…"_

"_Now!" Father had yelled loudly._

_The dark-haired lady and his father then conversed in hushed whispers while the awkward girl, Willow, who look awkwardly back at Haedus and smiled. Her eyes shifted from the traditional striking grey eyes of a Black into the green eyes that perfectly resembled himself._

_Haedus never saw a glimpse of the dark lady ever again._

* * *

Haedus' neck jerked as the girl, Hermione, pulled him out of his thoughts with a gentle tap. His eyes were full of fear when Hermione had touched him. At this point, Willow (2) had looked quite irritated by the unbecoming manners of the foreign girl. The maid looked ready to throw Hermione out of the manor and back onto the streets.

"You were asleep for abit." Hermione's red, yet gentle eyes surveyed Haedus with a deeply concerned look. "If you don't want me here, I'll be going now." The young woman smiled in sincerity and took her what little things she had with her in preparation to leave. Haedus was struck by a sense of longing and was reminded of the green-eyed lady which haunted his dreams.

"…No." Haedus muttered defiantly.

"What?" Both Hermione and Willow asked out of shock.

"We would be happy to have you working here. I, Haedus Erichthonius Potter, do swear, by my family's magic, to protect and hide Hermione Figg from those whom wish to do harm upon her." Haedus swore. His magic had inadvertently made his promise into an Unbreakable Vow. Hermione gasped and bowed at that display of powerful magic.

Hermione smiled and replied solemnly, "It's only fair if I promise to protect you as well. I, Hermione Figg, do swear, to the full extent of my magic, to protect and serve Haedus Erichthonius Potter."

Her tongue danced awkwardly around Haedus' middle name, but her magic, a blaze of light blue, connected with Haedus' brilliant emerald green magic into a bond between a Lord and a Squire.

Haedus coughed weakly and said, "Um- As your lord, I allow you to take on a new pureblood line and serve under me with a new surname." He was still unfamiliar with the duties of a Squire and the conditions which were needed in the ceremony.

Meanwhile, Willow had glared openly in contemn at the newly-sworn-in squire, Hermione. She then coughed openly in a gesture to excuse both parties and stated, "Young Master Haedus, shall I brief Lady Hermione on her new duties to her Lord and show her to the Servant Quarters."

"Of course. Show her to her rooms." Haedus replied. He then turned to Hermione and said awkwardly, "I look forward to seeing you again… later."

* * *

The quiet maid, Willow, led Hermione to another wing within the manor after the young master, Haedus, had to retreat back to his chambers in a fit of harsh coughing. The hallway which led to the servant quarters were decorated in plain white wooden panels and devoid of any fanciful flowers or trinkets. There were only painted portraits of young women in servant garments; their painted irises seemed to watch the two living servants that were passing by. Hermione suppressed an instinctive shiver as they walked along the hallway towards a lone doorway. As they entered a circular pathway which had eight doors which connected to other areas of the manor, Hermione exhaled a breath which she did not realize that she was holding.

Willow pointed to each of the doors and explained each door's path: Attic, Wine-cellar, Master wing, Nursery wing, Kitchen and main level. The other two doors led to the head maid's personal chambers and the other servants chambers. As there are only two human servants, Hermione and Willow had rooms to themselves. The house elves lived in their own designated space within the kitchen. The servant quarters was formerly a part of the wine-cellar, but had a new wall built to separate the two areas.

The pair had entered one of the eight doors and Willow already proceeded to show her around her new room. The maid had already gotten the house elves to prepare Hermione's new room for her. It was modestly furnished with a wooden wardrobe, bookshelf, study desk and a twin-sized bed. Hermione could only speak of pure gratitude towards the thoughtful maid, "Oh, thank you! I'm sure by now you know my name! I hope we can be best of friends as co-workers!" Her eyes shined with excitement and Willow nodded along with a carefully controlled smile as well.

The maid clasped her hands together and said, "Young Master had ordered me to explain your new role as a vassal under his family name. However, I do not see a single exemplary talent within your being." Willow's face sketched into a frown and snubbed the now still mud-blood. "Nonetheless, I will carry out his orders with decorum. You will learn all which is required of your new status as a squire: there will be horse riding lessons, advanced magical studies, musical studies, pureblood etiquette and most importantly, magical weaponry. It is your sworn duty to protect Master Haedus with your life. I will see to your studies personally, and with the help of other tutors, you may be introduced to Master Haedus' extended family and friends during his next birthday, which is the next full moon."

Hermione nodded and had seated herself on the comfortable bedding. Her legs were getting tired from all the walking she did.

"During these next few weeks, we will bring a dress-tailor and tailor both Haedus' new dress robes and your complete wardrobe. Lord Potter does not expect to sully his family name by not gifting you proper clothes akin to a mere house-elf. However if you saw in the hallway leading to our personal quarters, the women in the portraits are deceased servants who have sullied the family name by committing various crimes against the Potter house. Several of these include adultery, treason, black-mailing and assassination. All of the servants are forced to swear their magic to protect the secrets of the house of Potter. Magic judged their crimes and condemned them to serve as eyes of the manor – rendering their very souls into portraits to serve as a warning to all traitors."

Hermione grew pale at the underlying threat and Willow then smiled brightly in return. "Of course, this is only a possible outcome if you chose to behave in such a manner." The head-maid stated cheerfully. "Now, we must cleanse any trance of sickness inside you. For Haedus, he is very ill at times and gets sick quite easily from outsiders. We expect you to keep a potion regime to help yourself in keeping up good health." She called for another house elf, Spice, to the room. The floppy-eared house-elf came with four differently shaded potion vials, set them upon the study desk and popped back into the kitchen.

"I personally made these potions myself. So, drink up!" Willow smiled innocently as Hermione hesitantly took the first vial from the far left side and swished the contents around.

She took a small sip from the first vial and deeded it as 'adequate'. She gulped the rest of it down and said, "Tastes like flowery tea."

She proceeded to try next three vials. The second one had a bitter aftertaste and Hermione had a long grimace.

At the third vial, she took a small sip again and screamed as the liquid had went down her throat and given her a sense of fire burning her insides. The small crystal vial smashed into the floor; the shards broke into a million pieces onto the cold floor.

(Censored at this portion; unedited version is viewable on AO3)

The maid's smile grew sinister and said, "Don't worry, my first time was like that. I'll get Spice to patch you up and clean up this mess. He'll instruct you on tomorrow's tasks."

Willow stepped carefully over any shards which blocks her from exiting. As she turned away from the tortured girl, she spoke again with eerie glee, "I would not recommend speaking until the next full moon. The potion magically blocks your vocal chords and we would not want you to break your voice now, would we? Don't try to pin this on me either. As Haedus' oath only concerns outside forces, you can not harm me. Especially, if he heard you speaking ill of his mother."

Willow's face morphed into a perfect replica of Lord Potter's first wife, Lily Potter, and smirked. _And they said that Hufflepuffs were harmless…_

* * *

It was nightfall when Lord Potter just entered the foyer. His steps echoed hollow through the house and as expected, Willow had readied the master wing for his return from daily business trips. As of this moment, he would be gripping the railing of the large stairway in the entry hall to enter his personal chambers. His exhausted form would stumbled along the way to his bedroom, but Willow would lend him her shoulder to help him.

Lord James Charles Potter was a man of few smiles now. His eyes were masked by dark circles and bags, giving him an impression that he was a man going on 50 instead of his actual age. Some say that when Lily Potter died that day by his hands, a part of his very essence died with her. No one was allowed into his bedchambers except his favoured servant, Willow. If the public even saw the countless painted portraits of the gentle, yet fiery red-haired lady, all the rumours of his infidelity and womanizing would surely end. The portraits covered every inch of the walls and did not allow even a breath between the natural hardwood panels and the haunting paintings.

"Master, would you like to slumber or shall I get the painting supplies?" Willow's gentle voice cooed. Her body bowed as James Potter had seated himself on the seat across from the blank canvas.

"No, Nymphadora, please tell me about Haedus."

"He is doing well, m'lord. He's adapting to his studies well; his knowledge of magical theory and light magic is cementing. However…" Willow stiffened at the mention of her birthname. Master Potter only called her that when he is stern. She liked the name which Master had given her more so.

"What is it?"

"He accepted a mudblood into our home. He swore to protect her… by his magic."

"I see. See to his punishment; two days in the Room seems fitting as he carelessly ruined our plans." Lord Potter stated with conviction. He pondered for a moment with his fingers dancing in idle thought.

"Yes, m'lord. I already have done so." Willow stated. "But m'lord, he is progressing towards our cause. He shows compassion towards those whom are lesser in status than himself. Please, reduce to a day and a half… It's his birthday soon. He needs to look well enough for the guests of honour."

Lord Potter replied solemnly, "Only for you… Lily." He caressed Willow's face which had morphed into a perfect mirror of Lily Potter's face during the conversation. "Let's see to our son." He smiled obsessively towards the false image of his dead wife.

* * *

Down in the wine cellars of the manor, there laid an innocent steel door. Most who visit down the dimly-lit cellar had always assumed that the room behind the metal door was a meat locker of some sorts. However, it was anything but.

Willow led her master to the steel door and opened the magically hidden viewing panel to reveal a glass window. The room was warded from any outside noise and the only light that lit up the door was through the glass panel. There sat Haedus in a white mental patient suit; his small arms were bound in long white cloth and the cloth then twisted into a tight knot around his ankles. The intricate knot work prevented the dark-haired boy from moving unless he wanted to fall on his face. His mouth was gagged with a worn-down ball which had already various bite marks on it. The boy's green eyes were covered by a light fabric, enabling him to see only bare outlines of objects.

The boy saw the faint light from the other end of the viewing panel and jerked his head at the visitors.

(Censored at this portion; unedited version is viewable on AO3)

More muffled yelling was heard by James Potter and Willow. Lord Potter tightly hugged Willow with his right arm and whispered, "Our son needs to learn to respect his elders. We know what's best for him after all." He carefully shut the viewing panel and locked it magically with his wand. "We should adjourn to the bedchambers, Lily."

While more subdued whimpers were heard as the pair walked away, Lord Potter sniffed the air and regained a moment of lucidity, "Willow, remember to ward the room later for inside smells. I can smell his urine from here. Haedus should really learn to look past his fear of darkness."

"I understand, m'lord." Willow replied.

Lily Potter's eerily gentle smile looked back towards James Potter. Lord Potter smiled wishfully in return.

* * *

1 – 'Haedus' is defined as 'The Kid' or the two stars in the Auriga constellation; Erichthonius was a legendary ruler whom was raised by the goddess Athena

2 - Yes, I changed Nymphadora's name to Willow. But really, James potter is hiding her so it is reasonable to change her name. I'll change her name back when we enter the order of the phoenix arc.

A/n: Here we see Scum Lord James strikes again! I've already started on the next chapter (Haedus' birth). This is the end of mostly Hermione's Arc of the story; I'll probably write more about the pureblood side of things now with Harry's POV. I debated posting this chapter as chapter 4 but the storyline would not be the readers find that Harry is proper at times and just plain awkward with normal people, just remember: he's ill and doesn't have much healthy relationships in his life. He just expects people to basically talk formally all the time.

Extra A/N: fanfiction . net's copy of this fic will be censored, but i'll put in the uncensored version here.

Next - Who is Haedus? Son of Pureblood, Lady Annabelle, or Son of the Mudblood, Lilly Potter


	4. Chapter 4

Warnings: Graphic Depiction of domestic abuse and character death

Origins

_**July 31**__**st**__**, 1987**_

Lady Annabelle Polos had the traditional French Pureblood features: doe eyes with green irises, blonde and beautiful, delicate facial structure. Her family had been strong supporters of Grindwald's reign of terror and had their wealth seized by the French magical government. With only fading beauty and an heiress to a side branch of Ravenclaw to her name, she was not wealthy by the British pureblood standard. Yet, she had been lucky enough to be wed to the notorious Traitor of the Light, James Potter. She hadn't known much about Lord Potter's previous wife, but it was rumoured that it was a love match – deeded by magic herself.

She had planned everything according to what her mother and her pureblood tradition had pushed towards: _bear an heir to keep your husband close_. Yet on her wedding night, Annebelle was left with a reddening handprint on the cheek and an empty bed. Her desperate search for an answer to Lord Potter's scorn of her womanly body had led her to the horrible conclusion: Lord Potter married her as a pale imitation of his late wife. The humiliation of being unworthy compared to a mere mud-blood was unbearable! The day after Annabelle had married Lord Potter, he had threatened her with blackmail, and worse, divorce if she did not sign a two-year magical contract for the marriage.

The magical contract outline a deadline of two years to bear a heir to the house of Potter. If she was found to be sterile or unable to produce the fruits of their marriage, James Potter would be able to take on a mistress and to produce a heir. Her title as Lady Potter would be a mere crown of false gold; the mistress would be showered in attention if she was able to win the affection of Lord Potter. And Annabelle would be cast out of the house of Potter through a divorce. A divorce with a lord of an Ancient and Noble house meant she was unfit for any other pureblood whom had a sense of dignity. The Ravenclaw line would be destined to die completely in the magical world. Rowena Ravenclaw's famed abilities to _see_ and _store_ the knowledge of her ancestors would be lost forever.

During her first year of marriage, Annabelle had consulted many healers specialized in extensive glamours. Her efforts to imitate Lord Potter's beau, Lily Evan, was futile; she could never maintain the fiery Griffindor nature of the red-head beauty. Each time she tried to seduce her wayward husband had ended in harsh insults and physical violence. In the end, she had tried love potions and compulsion spells, but Lord Potter was hopelessly in love with his mudblood wife's memory – even after he had presented her corpse to Lord Voldemort along with the remains of what was assumed to be his unborn child. None had dared to check the infant's corpse; a magical child was considered to be precious in the world of pure-bloods – even one that was tainted by the blood of an impure.

* * *

She had to get sperm from another source: by masturbating her husband in his slumber and impregnating herself via a corrupted medical healer and Lord Potter's seed. However, all best laid plans would eventually go wrong. She had not planned for the boy in the attic. James Potter had secretly switched his son with a recently-proclaimed stillborn child and raised his son in secrecy. Her child would never be the heir of the Potter fortune - always the spare.

Her curiosity got the better of her and she had went up to the attic. Amidst the highly-piled clutter of old relics of the Potter family, there was an innocuous wooden door hidden among the large stacks. The door had clicked, and with an eerily creak from the door, Annabelle laid her eyes upon a dirty and disheveled little boy playing in a far too small bed. A locked window let in the only source of light and showed the skinny figure of the child. Black hair almost covered his eyes, and yet, the boy's eyes burned a malicious green. The devilish pale lips spoke with a bare whisper and answered her accusations of treason:

"_Papa?_"

Her hatred of Lily Potter and her spawn muddled her rational mind with thoughts of murder and mindless rage.

She would have her revenge if it meant that she would destroy herself in the process.

* * *

The nursery room was painted cherry red with griffins and dragons. Numerous toys and stuffed animals packed the weak shelves, as if to guard the person inside – or imprison. The silence in nursery was eerie. Today was Lady Annabelle Marie Potter nee Polos's day to give birth. Her victory was empty of joy and accomplishment; Healer Maxwell or what used to be Healer Maxwell was sprayed across the wall. Bits and pieces of the healer dyed the walls of the nursery's cherry red walls into a dark crimson colour. A disheveled-looking man with his cracked glasses sneered at Lady Annabelle. The pregnant woman was backing into the wall as if to hide herself from the threat. His voice cracked with condemn and disgust as he spoke, "Did you think I would not know?!"

After the crazed man had killed the healer with a quick '_Bombarda_', Annabelle shook in silence as the mahogany wand pointed at her.

"Please- James, Not my baby!" She wailed. Her voice was laced with a bit of hysteria as she used her arms as a shield against her husband.

"You thought you had all the chess pieces in your hands, didn't you?" Lord Potter muttered.

"What do you mean?! This is our baby!"

"No, it isn't. Maxwell gladly took all of your jewelry – which I gave you! - and implanted the flower of an all-too-greedy-for-gold half-blood! And he bragged about it all at the local pub. Your reputation and the family name is all tarnished! All. Because. Of. You." A faint coat of red blemished the righteous Potter's face while he had raised his voice in a darker tone. In that moment, Annabelle realized she was nothing to the man - not worth the time or effort to even engage in a conversation. All her efforts were useless. James was, in reality, a pure mad man who chased after the dream of his dead wife.

Annabelle's tears defiled her once graceful beauty as she quietly begged, "Please spare me! Please! I'll do anything. Just don't kill me!" Lady Annabelle's sobs echoed through the room as she grovelled in a desperate attempt for mercy from her stone-faced husband.

"You are lucky that I am proficient in memory charms. No one will find out about your bastard child. But I want one thing in return." Lord Potter growled.

"Papa, what's going on?" A little boy of barely 7 peeked into the opened door.

"Nothing, my little Prongslet." Her husband sung sweetly. "Your stepmother wishes to give your birthday present." His eyes told a different story – one of malice and animosity to the now kneeling woman. He quickly glamoured the walls back to the previously unstained state. His mouth whispered, "You will give your blood to adopt my boy, and in exchange, you shall not suffer for your sins at the hands of Lady Magic."

Unused to long exercise, the boy stumbled into the room with a pair of heaving lungs. "H-hi, my name is Harry. Um- _Mum_." The boy introduced himself as he braced himself against his father's strong build. He was taller than Annebelle had last seen him in the attic; he looked just like a miniature of Lord Potter complete with the signature unruly hair. Meanwhile, James had already prepared the blood adoption; a potion, a parchment listing the ritual and Annabelle's wand were already in his inner robe pockets.

"Kneel before your mum, Harry." James demanded sharply.

"Okay, papa." The unruly-haired replied.

The little boy kneeled and shuffled closer to the pregnant blonde on the floor.

Harry asked in a timid voice, "Now, what?"

Jame pointed his wand at Annabelle and place the instructional parchment and the wand in the middle of the two. He then stood near the wall as a witness to the ritual. As silent as a stag in the forest, his breath is the sole indication that he was still in the room.

Annabelle quickly glanced fearfully at her stoic husband before skimmed the ritual parchment. Annabelle's voice quivered as she read the parchment, emphasizing each word with magical intent:

"_Hecate, Mother of Witchcraft and Goddess of All Magic, _

_Please give me the strength to bind this child_

_To my blood and my magic."_

With shaking hands, Annabelle used her rosewood wand to 'Diffindo' her left wrist to open a superficial wound. Dabbing her right index finger in blood, she then placed a line of her own blood upon Harry's brow. After a few moments, the streak of blood glowed with unnatural glimmer of golden signifying the tell-tale magic's blessing to this ritual.

She then continued:

"_Do you, Harry James Potter, Son of James Charles Potter of the House of Potter, Griffindor and Evans_

_Do swear to up hold the blood and all the duties _

_Of the House of Polos and Ravenclaw?" _

Harry's voice trembled with awe and replied, "_I do._"

"_Then by Blood and Magic,_

_You, Harry James Potter,_

_Shall be reborn as my son,_

_Haedus __Erichthonius Potter."_

Lady Annabelle then used the remaining blood from her wound to place two streaks of the burgundy substance onto each of the boy's cheekbones. The room was suddenly filled with speckles of gold and green magic entwining into the young Potter heir. Harry's hair grew tamer and held unearthly green tint to the ebony locks. However, he still held Lily's green eyes and developed a more visible doe eye feature; he looked hauntingly similar to a changeling or a high-elfish prince.

Time stood still for them as the newly-christen son and mother laid in solemn silence. A lone dribble of loud clapping interrupted the two's quiet celebration. Singling out newly-dubbed 'Haedus', James congratulated his son with a grateful smile, "Happy Birthday, m' boy."

"And you, Annabelle, may leave. I will up hold my bargain and annul our magical contract."

"Thank you! Thank you!" Lady Potter grovelled. She dipped her head and pulling herself up again, trying to stand on her swollen ankles. When she finally stood up in front of her husband, James already had his slim mahogany wood out and recited one of his favorite dark spells: '_Sectumsempra_'. The spell hit right in the middle of Annabelle's baby bump; invisible swords shredded both the mother and the unborn bastard child. Annabelle choked on her breathe as the spell tore through her lungs. Blood and bits of pale skin painted the nursery, adding to the unsettling artwork of gore which the slowly corroding glamour spell revealed. She fell to her knees with soft thump. Her wand dropped a few feet from her hand as she clutched her stomach in agony.

"Father! What are you doing to Mother!" Haedus screamed, still on the floor. His face was completely covered in Annabelle's blood now. The blood trickled down to his hands as he went to wipe his face in horror.

"Shut up. Take your potion." James snarled. His handsome face contorted as he forced his shocked son to drink the bitter Permanent De-aging Potion. Haedus shrieked for his mother feebly as his body convulsed in unbearable pain. He started to rapidly shrink out of his already small robes. A few seconds later, faint gurgling noises could be hear from the pile of discarded robe.

"Y-you promise." Annabelle gasped. "How could you do this? To us?"

She attempted to crawl to her wand for some protection. But James already had gotten to her rosewood wand first. He smiled viciously as he snapped his wife's wand.

"Oh, Annabelle. Sweet, gullible Annabelle, no one leaves the house of Potter with a divorce. The only way out was death." James answered with grim satisfaction. He gave a swift kick to Annabelle's abdominal wound and was pleased when she dropped to the ground, groaning with pain. As Annabelle laid dying in her own blood, she heard James' voice calling for his young bastard servant: "Willow, clean the nursery room. I will tend personally to my son."

The noise from her villainous husband's shoes faded along with the gurgles from his de-aged son. If Annabelle was not so full of rage, she would have pitied the boy for living a damned life. _But the boy – no, her son – would avenge her. Lady Magic would see to that._ Annabelle thought with fading strength.

"_Avada Kedavra._" The young servant whispered with horror. Her unsteady wand was pointed at Annebelle's shuddering form which was in the midst of a miscarriage.

Annabelle's green irises reflected bright emerald just as she died.

* * *

_**July 25, 1998; Present Day **_

_Clank!_

Pale eyelids fluttered open to reveal bright green irises. Haedus gasped for air when he awoke in the Room; his mind was still haze from starvation and night terrors. His body was covered in sweat and filth, yet he felt as if he had discovered a terrible secret. He had saw through her eyes and felt her death. He was too accustomed to the nightmares to even scream now. Visions were not uncommon as he grew older; hazy dreams of a red-eyed man filled his nightmares. But it was a first to see into the past – to see his formerly faceless mother.

The metal door had opened. Willow's heels clicked quietly towards him.

"Young Master." The stoic female reached out with her arms to embrace him. "Forgive me."

As if Willow's touch was corrosive, he flinched and muttered, "I'm fine."

"Nonsense." Willow carried Haedus' petite form out of the room, knowing that his legs would have given out from exhaustion.

"A bath, little lord?" she finally addressed in front of the bathroom door.

She then opened the door to display a brown double sink cabinet, white in-set tub, which was able to fit easily four individuals, and a glass shower. The white marble walls were etched with runes to warm the occupants of the room. Willow proceeded to untie the knots on his arms and ankles with motherly care. After undressing the heir, she muttered, '_accio clean towels_' and tapped her wand on Haedus' dirty braid to unravel it. White fluffy towels zoomed into the room. The maid then folded them into a neat stack on the counter.

She curtsied with respect and asked, "I hope you are not too unwell from the ordeal?"

"I said I was fine. You are dismissed. You can station Hermione in front of the door if you want. I just want some peace." Haedus declared in a bored tone with a wave of his hand. His voice came out as a hoarse and raspy tone, unlike his usual melodious tenor.

"Of course, young Lord. Shall I send for a house-elf's assistance?"

"Just tell Hermione to assist me. I rather not see anyone else." The irritated boy snubbed. He did not have the patience to deal with a moronic elf after his punishment as well as hearing pathetic excuses from one of his captors. The brunette nodded and left Haedus after opening the hot water and bubble-bath taps.

The warm, comforting water rose as Haedus struggled to get into the tub, moving his stiff limbs awkwardly. With a hiss of pain, he inspected his body and was pleased to find less injuries than usual. But still, his neck and parts of his arms were in angry red blisters and welts. His legs were less so.

Haedus suspected that the easy treatment was so because of his upcoming eleventh birthday.

_Knock! Knock!_

He heard the door open slightly. Hermione's frizzy bob popped into view as she nervously asked, "Do you need any help?"

"Yes. Come in."

The girl was dressed in Willow's old servant garment - a short-sleeved black robe trimmed with faded white lace. She awkwardly shuffled inside and locked the door. She tried to stifle a gasp of shock at Haedus' blemished skin before muttering a polite '_Sorry_'.

The ebony haired boy rolled his eyes and demanded, "Get the Bruise and Bumps potion, Aches and Pains elixir and the healing balm. They're in the cabinet and are clearly labeled. Pour the Bruise potion in the bath and give me the elixir to drink."

After a few clacking of potion bottles, Hermione clutched two crystal bottles and a wooden container. The brunette stuttered, "I think these are the right ones."

"Smell them. The bruise-healing potion is supposed to smell strongly of Comfrey; it has a spicy aroma. The healing balm will have a hint of peppermint to it and the elixir has a rubbing alcohol smell. Remember it well." Haedus instructed as he propped himself upright.

"Why are you being so, well, nice to me?" Hermione asked shyly before pouring the bruise-healing potion into the water. The soapy water turns a cheerful shade of lavender. "I mean, Willow just pushes me to do things that either end up badly for me or punishes me."

"Willow's like that. She gets that from my father." The heir said absently. "I treat people better because they are more eager to help me in return. Plus, you're considered my life companion already. And I don't want a stupid one like Crabbe and Goyle."

Hermione's smile shone a tad brighter as he spoke, and replied, "I'm glad that you're the one person who seems like a great chap."

Haedus smirked faintly before asking, "If you really wish to repay me for my services, I would suggest you grab Bathida Bagshot's _Bloodlines and Abilities_ for me. It's downstairs near the foyer and you can't miss the bright red cover on the stand."

Hermione eagerly went away partially because she was unused to seeing a male bathing. The clicks of the brunette's heels faded away and Haedus stretched his arms wide. He felt two pops from his body before starting to add more soap to the tub.

_Sometimes it is more helpful to be nice to people. _Haedus thought as he lounged around in the therapeutic water.

Hermione had entered the bathroom again and stated that Lord Potter would be having an important guest over at three o'clock. Hence, Haedus would not be allowed to roam the grounds as he pleases. As a consolation, Hermione had then started asking questions about magical theory; she had skimmed through the bloodlines text with much pleasure. Apparently, one of the main ideologies that the school taught them was that: white magic, and subsequently, white wizards was inherently weaker than their dark counterpart. Furthermore, "mud-bloods" had stolen magic from the pure blooded practisers, and thus, doomed to serve the superior race. Dark wizards would keep the light wizards in check less the light wizards are in trouble. That is why modern wizard society caters to the pure-bloods.

_Honestly, what do they teach muggleborns these days? _The Potter heir snorted mentally before correcting the biased crap of an education that Hermione was raised with.

After getting out of the tub and a long lecture with an eager Hermione on his tail, Haedus had finally gotten to his primary objective: researching his prophetic dreams. He was situated in his personal bedchambers along with the puppy-like woman. As Hermione started on braiding his hair, Haedus opened the ancient tome, _"Bloodlines and Abilities"_ by Bathilda Bagshot, and turned to the labeled 'R' section. He was lucky that Hermione was not well versed in the household rules; Dark Arts books were forbidden to him unless Willow was reading to him. His father hated the Dark Arts but keep a few tomes for presentation.

_Ravenclaw's Foresight_

_It was said that Rowena Ravenclaw was a product of an ingenious love match between a descendant of Morgana le Fay and an unknown male. Lady Ravenclaw had an unusual ability to know a person's past through visions. This clairvoyant ability was one of the main characteristic traits of a true descendant of Ravenclaw. Not much else is known to the House of Ravenclaw because of their hereditary ability._

Although Haedus tried not to be shocked at having a rare ability, he was amazed with this finding. The house of Ravenclaw had little fame compared to the two other founders of Hogwarts, Godric Griffindor and Salazar Slytherin. But the thought of having limitless knowledge and power at his fingertips made the pale boy titter with delight. _This would be interesting indeed… perhaps I should pay a visit to Gringotts later._

Hermione gasped and mutter small words of concern as she found a red scar right in the middle of his pale neck. Haedus had to subdue her worries by saying that he had it since his birth. The two kindred spirits then talked eagerly about magical theory before their curfew.

* * *

It was past 3 o'clock. A weary old man in formal red robes checked his old watch in his modestly furnished French villa. It was a parting gift from one of his supporters and he still regretted many of what his kinsmen had suffered from the Dark regime to the west. In the past, some thought of him as a vanquisher, and now, they delude themselves into thinking that he was a crazy and dangerous man. When he goes out in muggle wear, the accusing whispers and glances from the magical folk of Bayeux, Normandy had eroded his self-confidence and shined light upon his past errors. The willful blindness which both the wizarding world and their muggle counterpart seemed to suffer from was the true cause of the people's suffering.

Albus Dumbledore sat in an exact replica of his own headmaster quarters at Hogwarts. He gazed upon his many magical instruments and his eyes twinkled at a crushed crown and his beloved companion, Fawkes the Phoenix. For a moment, he pondered about the possibility that Lord Voldemort had fallen before the Dark regime had taken over the British Isles. He had wept tears of sorrow as the Dark army had finally gotten through Hogwarts' ancient wards. Wails and whimpers could be heard from the muggleborn students as Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick was forced to flee to France. Albus knew Tom still harbored an immense hatred towards all things Muggle-related and that included the muggle-borns. _Oh, how true his fears were…_

The weary man had shaven his beard and took a disguise of a pompous old French Noble for this important meeting. He then used the international floo to get to the Potter Manor. Bits of charcoal ash and dust soared to the air as the former headmaster arrived in the Potter Manor's parlor room. Lord Potter was already there to await Dumbledore's arrival with eager uplifted arms.

Before hugging Dumbledore, Lord Potter greeted his old headmaster with fatigued eyes and a shallow smile, "Hello, Professor."

"James, m'boy. You can call me Albus now. I'm no longer your professor or headmaster." Albus held a fond smile to his lips while he spoke to his former student.

"I'm glad that you're well. It has been a hard 17 years to convince the Dark Lord of my loyalty." James said as he scratched his scalp boyishly. "I already got Willow to prepare the afternoon tea. I couldn't risk the house elves seeing us together."

Lord Potter led Dumbledore to the formal dining room. The former headmaster took his seat at the head of the table while James had taken the seat to the right. The oak table was already filled with warm biscuits, small appetizers and tea for two.

"How is Miss. Tonks? Andromeda has been most worried about her. She keeps calling me on the telephone from Italy." Dumbledore asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"She's better now. Sometimes she still resents her mother for what she had to do."

"I'm glad. I see that Tom has been certain now where your loyalties lie now. Tom has positioned you as the second-in-command of the Dormio. Many of our own have evaded capture, thanks to your help."

James then grinned and replied, "It's all my pleasure. We have been working around the clock for a special occasion. Rumour has it that Voldemort has spawned a heir during these seven years of peace."

"Hm… I see. We will have to send people to scout out that secret."

James' hazel eyes held a distant glance to them before asking, "When I can stop imprisoning my sweet prongslet?"

"M'boy, I have went over this before. It is necessary for Harry to learn Occlumency." Dumbledore reprimanded in a grandfather-like fashion. "Voldemort-" James flinched at the name slightly before taking a cookie onto his plate. "Would harvest his mind and know of our plans to defeat him. The trama-induced protection would allow him to attend Hogwarts without suspicion and get closer to Tom as he is accepted into the Vanguards."

James tapped his cheek with a lone finger before reporting, "Harry has taken on a new muggle-born squire, by the name of Hermione Figg. The girl may hinder Britain's future. Shall I arrange an accident?" As the clouds cloaked the sun, James' face was highlighted in a menacing glow. Albus knew the Dark regime had not treated James' sanity kindly. It was a misfortune that Lily had died during Harry's birth. But it was crucial that Harry had absorbed the horcrux from the Ravenclaw's diadem. Lily already knew she had to die to give Harry a fighting chance against Voldemort.

"No, Arabella tells me that she is definitely not a spy for the Dark. Our agents in the Academy owled me information about her. Hermione may help us immensely if she is able to attend Hogwarts with other squires." Albus stroked his chin, as if in deep thought. "Which brings me to the point, Miss. Nymphadora's special abilities will help on the latest assignment…"

Before the pair conversed in quick, hushed whispers, Dumbledore had erected a strong privacy ward. It would be near five o'clock before Dumbledore would leave for France again.

* * *

A/n: Forgive me, faithful readers. I have been piled with homework, and addition to that, my mom is taking her insurance exams via online course work. So, I have not been able to get on my laptop that often to write. But 4500+ words for this chapter! -

Next – An Extended history of New Britain: An Extensive Study of the Blood Wars and the Collapse of Muggle Britain (An interlude).


	5. Interlude and ch 6

Interlude

_It has been said that the British Isles knew no eternal darkness until the Dark Lord had brought it with him._

Bathida Bagshot, Author of _Hogwarts: A History_, _Among the Creatures_, and others

**From the autobiography of Albus Dumbledore, **_**Blood Wars: 1970 – 1980 **_

I always had faith in the judgement of the Ministry of Magic. The power of democratic elections were the backbone of the progress of wizard-kind. No matter what blood was contained in an individual, wizards and witches were created equally. That was the motto of many light magic-users. I have seen many a good muggle-born rise into great power, but we tend to forgot that the reason why we allow Muggle-borns into Hogwarts, the ancient school of wizardry and witchcraft: we are equally human as well. However, dark magic practisers begged to differ.

Dark wizards see muggles as inferior beings and will not hesitate to destroy the peace which the British Isles have had since the last Dark Lord, Gellert Grindelwald, seek to take the Isles for himself. We, as citizens of a wizarding society, should consider muggle technology as a gift and make peace with the muggles. If not, we shall face worse enemies divided.

That enemy is Lord Voldemort and his dark followers.

Lord Voldemort rose from the ashes of Grindelwald's failure to defeat me. However, I had underestimated Lord Voldemort's strategic tactics: usage of fiend-fyre on major buildings, alliances with dark creatures and public executions of hostages.

* * *

Like many chief magical representatives, Dumbledore was stunned when he had an enchanted crystal ball delivered to him at the crack of dawn. A note from the ministry owl said that, "The message from the crystal ball will arrive at noon." The headmaster assumed that the Ministry finally pushed back the Dark Lord and he would finally be able to save his comrades that were fighting off the Dark regime. He announced it to the tatter-clothed war refugees in his French home. They cheered and laughed with delight as the people hugged each other.

It was anything, but a declaration of peace.

_Sentencing Day: A recording of December 31__st__, 1980_

The contents of the crystal ball swirled with green-glowing runes before projecting a wide-screened image upon the front.

The screen displayed rows and rows of kneeling people in white-cladded outfits on a large wooden platform who were guarded by a few low-ranking Death Eaters. It was at the front of the Ministry of Magic, but the building had billows of dark smoke streaming into the air. Some were sobbing and other had keep their face stoic as though they thought they could still keep their pride. The high-ranking Death Eaters, which included Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Bellatrix Lestrange and several others, stood at either ends of a high obsidian throne behind the platform on a higher level of stone.

"_We are here today – to judge the crimes against these forty- seven persons. They are hereby accused of harboring mud-bloods, terrorism, and treason against the Dark Lordship and the British Isles. Millicent Bagnold, Dorcas Meadowes, Alice Longbottom, Frank Longbottom…_" A man in a black and grey cloak orated. His face was hidden by a Grim-like silver mask; the snout of the mask was etched in a downward snarl as if the people on the wooden platform were to be fed upon. "_This is not a trial, but a sentencing._"

All the people listed upon the list of criminals were either high-ranking magical British officials or apart of the Order. The audience in the villa were mortified to say the least; the people on the death row were all friends, family and people whom they looked up to.

"_Thank you for your servicess, Traverss_." A deep snake-like voice declared, emphasising on his 'S's. Red eyes ablaze with triumph, Lord Voldemort rose from his throne and walked to the front-center of the platform. He took an egotistically bow before he addressed the whole population of Britain:

"Good Afternoon, all those whom are watching this execution – families, fugitives and fellow heads of state. I believe you are all under the impression that a ministry owl has sent you news of a joyous occasion. This is a special day because I, Lord Voldemort, shall be the emperor of the British Isles. Those in the British Isles will be, hence, my subjects as well. I do not wish to be a ruthless ruler, so I will give you a chance to swear upon your magic to serve as faithful subjects under my rule."

Voldemort then asked the former minister, Millicent Bagnold, "_Do you wish to serve me as your monarch?"_

Bagnold spat on the Dark Lord's robes and cried, "I_'ll never serve you, you monster!_"

The dark lord frowned as she had done so and cast '_Scourgify_' on his robes. He replied in an even tone, "_Very well. Crucio!_"

The former minister lapsed into a seizure-like dance upon the wood planks. Bagnold's eyes and nose started to bleed heavily after a duration of two minute under the Unforgiveable; she would not likely retain her sanity again. The rest of prisoners cried out of tearful sympathy, "_Stop! Stop! Please!_"

Voldemort smiled with his pale thin lips and continued to torture the former minister. After Bagnold had seem to lose her voice entirely from screaming, he finally stopped his cruel endeavour. He seemed pleased with the reaction from the unseen crowd and the prisoners. Voldemort casted a mild 'sonorous' charm with his yew wand and addressed the prisoners again, "_I, once again, humbly offer you a place within my kingdom. You will not be harmed nor your family, but if you choose to defy me, I shall not grant this generous offer again."_

The prisoners were still and silent; this decision would be the end or the continuation of their family line. Finally, a witch spoke with slow uneasiness, "_I, Amelia Bones of the house of Bones, pledge myself, my family and the Diggory widow and her son to the dark kingdom."_

Loud gasps emitted from the rest of the prisoners. Many had shouted curses at the head of the Bones family, "_Traitor! How could you give yourself over to this monster!"_ The few of the guarding death eaters threw dark cutting curses at the offenders to silence the discontent.

Lady Bones spoke with resilience, "_How could I? How could I not! I have a niece to protect and my sister as well. I rather live as a traitor to my beliefs than to let my family die today!"_

Voldemort smirked as several prisoners mumbled to themselves. He was waiting for a single light or neutral Pureblood to support his claim to the throne.

_"…I will too."_ A quiet, balding Chinese man said. _"The Chang family will support you as well."_

A few more shivering hands were raised in support of the dark regime before the maliciously-laughing deatheaters dragged the remaining stubborn prisoners to the front of the platform.

In the villa, a few young girls burst into tears and the older generation of wizards and wizards bowed their heads in solemn silence as they watched the unwilling prisoners of war were being killed. The platform was dripping with red when the last of the screams had stopped. The death eater had gave the last victim a painless _'Avada Kedarva'_ to end the skinned man's life.

Voldemort had then addressed the heads of state and those whom were watching this broadcast, "We of the British Isles are willing to listen to reason. However, we shall not stand for discontent from any parties. I, Lord Voldemort, give you my word that I shall not conquer anymore land, and in return, my followers shall not exact revenge upon the brave and foolish."

The crystal ball had then burst into shards as the magic within was canceled. Like many stranded war refugees, Dumbledore's eyes grew dim as the last of his hope had been extinguished; Britain had been lost.

* * *

A/n: So this is the end of this update…

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NOT. Enjoy Chapter 6 as well :3

* * *

Chapter 6: Conversion

**July 31****st****, 1998; Devoratrix Sanguinem (The Dark Lord's Castle)**

Mundanes used to occupy in the British Isles before Lord Voldemort's reign. Three- fourths of the muggle population, which were deemed 'non-magical', were either made into werewolves or sea serpents to guard the dark kingdom. Nests of sirens and cannibalistic merfolk were allowed to roam freely in the coastlines. Mundanes were horribly gullible when Lord Voldemort had spread the news of a nuclear winter had struck the land. None dared to venture into the Dark kingdom; but the few that did were either eaten by one of the several creature tribes or sent into the Capital for slavery.

In the sea between the land-masses of England and Ireland, there lie an island. Upon that island, Lord Voldemort had built his castle. The castle, aptly named 'Devoratrix Sanguinem' (1) or commonly known as the Devoratrix, was built by thousands of muggles with intricate stone work before being warded by the dark lord himself. There were four towers which guarded the dome-like center with a seemingly endless moat of murky green water. The visitors whom have gone there say that they can still hear the many victims scream as they starve to death or tortured by their captors.

The dark lord sat at the head of the long table in the conference room. His magical aura deepened with quiet rage as he bellowed, "How did seven ministry officers go missing in the span of twenty-four hours? Does anyone care to explain this utter display of pure ineptitude?"

His ministers of various departments grew pale at the display of outrage. Among them were some of the inner circle of death eaters; Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Barty Crouch Jr., and Dolohov held the important positions of power: Captain of the Vanguards, Minister of Public Co-operation, The Hand of the King, and Minister of the Keep. Though Severus Snape was known for his hatred for children, he was still delegated as headmaster of Hogwarts due to his strict rules and ruthless methods of teaching.

"Wormtail! How can you explain your incompetence again!" The man once called Tom Riddle simmered in hot fury. He debated whether he should kill all of the people within the conference room. With the last strand of sanity Voldemort had, he decided against killing them because of the effort which would be needed to replace the blubbering idiots.

Peter Pettigrew looks every bit like the terrified rat that he was before Dolohov slapped him on the back of the head and stated, "Do your report."

Dolohov didn't know why the Dark Lord choose the bumbling imbecile as the head of the Dormio department. Even the blood traitor Potter was a better suit for the job. But it was better not to question his lord's decision.

Sweltering amidst the glare of the dark lord, Pettigrew's trembled with fear, "My spies tell me of an assassin, by the name of 'Many Face' or 'Janice'; the man can change forms and his voice shifts into a perfect resemblance to the original. His known forms are a thin beggar, a porty maid and a cherub-like boy."

Voldemort's hands folded into a tense clasp before commenting, "You've reported the same rubbish as last week. Anything new to report?" His wine-coloured eyes held a certain gleam which promised misery if his wishes were not fulfilled.

"no, your lordship!" Pettigrew whimpered. "But my second-in-command, Potter, is on the case already."

Pettigrew's eyes told a different tale; one which would use Lord Potter as a scapegoat.

"I see. But for now. _Pelles sensim(2)_!" Lord Voldemort cursed Pettigrew's right arm with a dark curse which would forever leave Pettigrew's wand arm useless. The rat animagus shrieked loudly before he had bit his own lip to silence the screams. Long strips of skin peeled off, revealing tendons and muscle tissue for all to see. Bellatrix and many others tittered wolfishly at the sight of blood; the dark lord would not punish them if the court jester was here.

Voldemort's voice commanded with contempt as he beckoned the useless man away, "Pettigrew, I do hope you find more information into this matter less I find you tiresome and throw you to my dear Nagini."

As the meeting slowly geared down, an albino raven carried an invitation with the Potter's crest and dropped it upon the front of the Dark Lord.

Confident that he would not be punished severely out of turn, Lucius Malfoy asked, "M'lord, what is the invitation for?"

"Apparently, Lord Potter's son is turning 11 tonight."

"If you do not wish to attend, may I suggest I bring your blessings to the son? My wife is cousin to Lord Potter by the blood of the Blacks." Lucius Malfoy said, dipping his blonde head into a bow. His Slytherin side was showing; if he had attended a pureblood as the Dark Lord's messenger, it would elevate the Malfoy's status as the right hand of the emperor.

"I may attend if I have enough time. If I do remember correctly, the son of Lord Potter is direct descendant of the line of Griffindor and Ravenclaw?"

"Yes. He does take after the Ravenclaw's line, but Lord Potter keeps him in his manor for many years due to the son's health concerns."

Voldemort nodded. With a wave of his hand, he sent his servant away to wallow in his thoughts.

It was not every day when he had heard of another spawn of the Potters having the same birthday as the prophecy had foretold. Last time he had checked, the Longbottom heir was well cared for by Bellatrix Lestrange. He did pitied the boy for being a ward of his parent's murderer. This brought back memories of another whom defied him: Dumbledore.

The arrogant old man had taken his diadem horcrux and locked all eyes from the headmaster's office – thus preserving his rule as the official headmaster. His minion, Snape, only could take on the title in name and was in reality, the deputy headmaster of Hogwarts. And on the eve of the fated day, Voldemort had felt the horcrux break and roared in pain. He fainted from his shattered soul, only to awaken to his current monstrous reptilian form. Over the years of governing the British Isles, Voldemort had grown bored of politics and frequent soirees. Even more obsessed with immortality than ever, Tom had started experimenting even more on his own soul. Yet, he wished to have a legacy made of flesh and blood – to be the second-in-command he always wanted.

To an extent, he succeeded in creating his legacy: a son to call his own.

"Father. I was told that you wanted to see me." A quiet reserved voice murmured. Prince Marvolo Tommen Slytherin was an 11 year-old tall boy with dark espresso curls and stern grey eyes. He took after his father physically, but had a wise and benevolent nature. The boy fumbled with the edges of his black robe. He didn't know what to expect from his father due to his past experiences with him. He rarely saw his father's face and grew up with a nanny and a tutor.

"I have been told that you are exceeding far beyond your tutors' knowledge."

"Yes."

"Hence, I will be taking over your studies personally."

"But Father- I want to go to Hogwarts!"

"There are no 'buts' in this decision. I will consider transferring you to Durmstrang if you are on good behaviour."

Burying his bald head into dark chocolate locks, Voldemort embraced his son in a fond gesture and whispered, "My sweet prince…"

Marvolo stiffened as still as a board before embracing his estranged father back.

Unknownst to his son, Voldemort was too busy as he was looking at the colour of his hands. They held a humanly warm cream shade. The snake had shed its skin to reveal a handsome man.

_I must consult with my oracle… _The snake with a human face resolves before ending the embrace and casting the '_nox_' charm to hide his human face. Lord Voldemort's voice boomed, "Leave."

He snaps his fingers to call for a house elf.

"Bring me Lovegood."

-line-

Long scrap of periwinkle blue and regal red fluttered through the air as a dwarfish woman with heavy glamours muttered to herself, "No! No! No! This will not do!"

Both Haedus and Hermione dared not to move as the famed seamtress, Madam Dany, went through many sections of expensive fabric for their dress robes. Haedus was supposed to wear a traditional robe with the twin crests of Potter and Ravenclaw while Hermione would have an elegant gown for her official inauguration as a pureblood squire. The royal red made Haedus' skin too pale and created a resemblance to a Nordic vampire. But alas, the house of Griffindor, Potter, and Ravenclaw did not fit in with the pale complexion of the Potter heir. Although many colours suited Hermione, it was not her place to judge the pureblood customs. Arguing with Willow had mellowed a bit of her hot-blooded tongue.

A loud groan emitted from Haedus as his limbs were stiffen to the point where he could no longer feel them. Hermione chuckled in response and chimed playfully, "Keep still!"

Meanwhile, Madam Dany and her assistant, Gabrielle, had been busy at work like hummingbirds to a flower. The pair absently commented as they willed their magic with wands to cut the fabric into the right textile, "Too pale! Doesn't shine just right!"

Haedus asked, "Can I use the traditional Polos colours, green and blue?"

"Of course! This simplifies matters better. Gabrielle, _obtenir la fille en bleu polaire avec de l'or et coupe le jeune héritier en vert émeraude de l'or ainsi (3)!"_

After what seemed to be hours of prepping and hair-styling, Madam Dany dabbled away her tears of joy with lace handkerchief. She watched as two of her most beautiful creations walked away to the ballroom.

* * *

**Same day; Serpens (the Capital of the Isles; 100 km of where Buckingham Palace once stood)**

Petunia Evans – formerly Dursley – embarked on her daily trek from the squib district to Serpens. It was an hour long train ride. The freaks built a new mode of transit for muggles and squibs since they couldn't operate brooms and teleport to work. It was similar to the large red train which she had seen her sister board many years ago, but had giant archways and stone bridges to connect all of British Isles together. Her uniform, a classical black servant garb, fluttered in the summer breeze as she waited to catch the early train to work. _How odd it felt to be alone without a family to come home to._

It was a painfully long time since Petunia has seen a single strand of hair from her ex-husband, Vernon. They were forced to move from their suburban paradise into the crowded squib district. But the Dursley family were one of the lucky ones. Many of their kind were shipped off to god-knows-where or worked as farmers for the freaks. It was Dudley's fifth birthday when Vernon had argily stormed off with his mistress, a much younger woman with auburn locks. He had met with the whore in a pub and used all of their savings to woo the harlot. What did it accomplish? Dudley cried tearfully as his father walked away and never came back. It was a common occurrence for muggle men to have many lovers and bastard sons since the government didn't give two pennies if they were fucking each other. They only cared if a muggle assaulted a half-blood or a pure-blood.

_Click! Clank!_

Her plain lofters entered the middle cart of the train with quiet precision. Petunia sat on a barely noticeable seat at the corner. As the train steadily moves towards the hub of activity in New Britain, the soft glow of sunrise cloaked the outer ruins of old London and shone upon the circular walls of Serpen. In the center among the small pebbles of marble apartment complexes, a magnificent coliseum of solid crystal stood. Many tourists gaze at the beauty of the building and surveyed the large carved windows which many muggles had died of torture to finish the display of British wealth.

She gazed at the brown strip of cloth sewn into her upper-right sleeve. It was mandatory for all squibs and mudbloods whom work at the capital to wear clothes which indicated their blood status. Petunia had begrudgingly joined the workforce again; she held low-tier jobs such as a dish-washer or a bathroom attendant. Dudley learnt all he knew from neighborhood classes, but it did not prevent him from trying to reach for the stars. He was 16 when he tried to win the jackpot of 1000 galleons in the Draconic Coliseum. All it took was a single stream of dragon fire before her poor Dudleykins had perished; He swung the cheap sword at an impossibly tall black scaled dragon. Petunia held back a sob at the remembrance of her son's charred body. His boyish face was barely recognisable from the dragon fire as he pressed his bloody hand to Petunia's arms.

"_Did I win, mum?_"

"_Yes, dear. Y-you beat the dragon._"

Petunia's eyes was clouded with tears before she wiped the liquid on sleeve. She was glad that it was too early for many people to have boarded the train trolley. The large rush of people usually came around the late morning. Or else, she would have been humiliated once more. This new job came up with a better wage than any other position she had acquired over the years. Ironically, she was working as a wine-server at Draconic Coliseum. Every day, she would see the place where her only son had died and see many others with the same absurd hopes die as well. How fitting…

When Petunia had arrived to the break room, she was greeted by the buzzing of the already on-going meeting. Her supervisor was a thin man with no smiles. With graying hair and beady little eyes, Trevor Stump was a half-blood bastard whom looked twice as old he had actually looked. _You could tell if he was a bastard with a last name like that, _Petunia did an once-over on the man. _But I'm not surprised. More than half of the half-blood freaks are bastards from the war._

He barked orders for the afternoon party, "Evans! Branch! Fletcher! You three are to serve the Potter party in the ballroom! Rest of ya'll be serving in the stands!"

Petunia turn her nose upward and sneered at the grumbling mousey-brunette girls. They should be grateful for even a job in such establishment; the world wasn't flowers and champagne. If she was younger, she would have had a chance with the old purebloods and stop working. Petunia would never admit that she envy a magical freak, but deep down inside, she knew she wanted to have magical blood.

She sighed and went to decorate the ballroom for the party. She wondered if this Potter was the same as her sister's Potter husband…

-line-

The décor of the formal ballroom in the Coliseum could summed up in one word: Magnificent. Giant moving ivory dragons held up the roof of the building while many were dazed by the elegant balconies' view of the combat arena. As opposed to traditional ballrooms, there were two levels to the room. The main ballroom was an elongated rectangle with many tables for refreshments and waltzing was held there as well. There was a grand staircase, which flowed up to the second floor, with various blooming floral carving adoring the stair railing. The second floor was for important guests or private meetings. The rooms were warded with privacy spells and obscuring spells to prevent the meeting to be disrupted. Although there were only 200 registered for the young Potter heir's birthday, there were a vast congregation of polite pureblood and eager half-bloods whom wanted to meet Dormio's second-in-command and young heir. They were there mostly due to the rumours of Haedus' birthrights and the high position of the Potters held in society.

The musical quintet of musicians were at their peak of cheery waltz music when the house of Potter finally made their appearance to the guests. Lord Potter was wearing a traditional wizarding robes in disquieting colour of burgundy with ghastly crimson trim. His sharp, intelligent glasses did nothing to hide the harsh demeanour of his hazel gaze. And upon his hand was his newest trophy, a sullen black-haired lady whom looked as if she was going to vomit upon the marble floor. However, the twin shining stars were Haedus Potter and Hermione who shared eager smiles with all.

Hermione's dress was a dazzling deep polar blue gown in a mermaid cut. The gleaming colour of the sunrise licking the helms of her gown. The combination of her pale skin and the colour of the gown gave a contrast which many pureblood ladies would die for. Her frizzy bob was tamed with a large amount of hair smoothing potion as well. Although Hermione's shaking legs were not used to high heels, the result was a stunning young woman in her prime.

While Hermione was a starlet in her own right, Haedus was a supernova of beauty. He was opting for a long oriental robe since he was quite petite for his age. Long silky textiles of deep emerald and ocean blue with subtle gold flash draped over the young Potter. The outcome was a slim, yet fitted heir who gave an unearthly air of a quiet god. If there weren't enough rumours about Potter's blood ties, there were even more now.

The two bowed stiffly and manoeuvred around the small clusters of pureblood circles. As per custom, they asked polite questions and gave the correct amount of gratitude to the congratulations from the guests. After a boring quarter of an hour, Hermione whispered through her teeth nervously, "when can we stop chatting with these people?" The couple that was currently speaking with them had terrible breath and was a bit of a bore.

"Ah-yes, I remember now. I was 34 when I was called into service of the dark lord. I was so grateful-"

Hermione was, by no means, an impolite person, but the shallow conversation was grating on her nerves.

"I suppose we could chat with Cedric and Draco…" Haedus said with a sigh. He hated to avoid to conversing with purebloods. Appearances were everything to these people. A simple sneer would be an end to opportunities in that circle. It was quite vicious in high society.

The sickly boy extended his arm with grace to his vassal and excused himself from the conversation with a quick mutter of the phrase, _'I think I see my friend over there'_. The two had wandered a suitable distance from the boring couple before being accosted by the Lestranges and the Malfoys.

"Good evening, Little Haedus. It's a pleasure to see a Potter that isn't a complete disappointment to purebloods." A curvaceous witch with a mess of black curls spoke fondly.

"Magic bless you, Auntie Bella. It's nice to see you again. Father doesn't let me out that often to see you." Haedus replied. Aunt Bellatrix was one of the only people who were honest with him; he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. "Where is Uncle Rodolphus?"

Bellatrix muttered haughtily, "Probably out looking for his mistress."

"Oh Bella, we mustn't dwell on such matters. Rodolphus loves you very much." Lady Malfoy simpered while steering her husband around. Lucius Malfoy gave a desperate look to the Potter heir before being dragged into yet another gossiping session with his wife. Haedus smiled. It wasn't often that people see a true love match among wealthy purebloods.

Bellatrix instantly perked up and bragged, "Oh Haedus! I must introduce you to my ward, Neville Longbottom. Did I tell you about the time I was cursing his parents out of their mind?" The sadistic witch wrapped her arms around Haedus and Hermione, and tittered in reminisce of the glory days. Meanwhile, Hermione had been as docile as a mouse during this family reunion. She was not sure if she was supposed to introduce herself to the imfamous witch or let Haedus do the talking. She couldn't bear to think about the worst consequences of being ousted as an impure imposter.

"Oh Auntie Bella, I'm sure that little Haedie would not be too pleased with that." A tall platinum blonde man drawled. A group of young adults trailed behind the young Malfoy smiled in recognition. "Look! His eyes are glazed over. Dear cousin, you should really practice on your masks."

He proceeded to ruffle up the disgruntled Potter' neat hair and smirked at the results. The playful blonde finally introduced himself to Hermione with a bow, "Draconis Lucius Malfoy, heir of the Noble and Most Ancient house of Malfoy and Hogwarts' head boy, at your service."

"Hermione Figg, a squire of the Most Noble and Most Ancient house of Potter. It's a pleasure." Hermione spoken in a timid manner and curtsied.

"Ah, you must be the bold half-blood who swayed Haedus' sweet heart." Draco suddenly took her hand and kissed the back of her hand before pulling her close to his chest. The petite brunette blushed in response.

He hissed quietly into her ear, "If I hear a word of you abusing Haedus' trust, I will personally see to destroying everything you hold dear."

Draco released Hermione and resumed his playful demeanour. However, his eyes held a threatening glare directed at the Potter squire, "I must introduce you to my dear friends and their dates-"

"Daphne Greengrass and her fiancé, Cedric Diggory."

Cedric smiled endearingly at Hermione while the cool blonde, Daphne, was busy eying the couple beside them with a knowing smirk.

"Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott."

The Nott heir was a quiet and reserved man who gave a polite nod to the Potter heir. Upon his arm, the stringy brunette, Pansy, giggled at the attention. Theodore smiled faintly at Pansy before resuming his stoic posture.

"Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle."

Hermione didn't think much of the two since they seemed to always look downwards as if there were dirt on their dragonhide boots.

"Blaise Zabini and his date, Cho Chang."

An olive-skinned young man smiled charismatically while his date, a pretty Asian girl, turned her nose upward at the brunette. They seemed oddly perfect together at first glance, but held no love in each other's eyes.

After Draco was finished with the introductions, he attempted to make small talk with Haedus, "Haedus, I was wondering if you have heard the rumours of a half-blood bastard Lestrange coming to Hogwarts?"

"I'm afraid not. But doesn't Hogwarts only let purebloods and their squires in?"

"Actually, the top twenty of each year, barring first years, in Serpens Preparatory can apply to be enlisted as Hogwarts transfers, but they're known as breeding mules for us purebloods. Their filthy blood is only good for that purpose, after all. Anyways, do not mention the name, Dominick, to Auntie Bella. She hates that bastard spawn of Uncle Rodolphus since he had a mistress to bear his heir. Poor Auntie, being an infertile lady of noble descent!"

"Ah, I see why Auntie Bella is irritated with Uncle Rodolplus. He is with his mistress, Jane Rivers. That woman is known for her fertility, but also spiteful manners among other unsavoury habits." Haedus commented with little emotion.

"Dominick has been accepted into Hogwarts. I met him yesterday at Diagonal Alley; he was parading around like a true-born heir by stating he was the 'Lestrange' heir. His arrogant attitude should be capped with a bit of dark hexes, don't you think?"

Before Haedus could ask Draco's nasty remark, Hermione muttered quietly, "Excuse me, I must depart to the Ladies room." She didn't have the courage to meet the Malfoy heir's grey eyes. She rather not be with the people whom punish her kind for their impure blood. With wet eyes, she escaped to the restrooms. She couldn't bear to let Haedus see her tears and weakness. She thought she was past all of this – the loneliness and emotional pain.

* * *

Haedus released a sigh of irritation.

"Cousin, why do you torment my things?" Haedus snarled.

Draco smirked and replied, "Then who will teach you about the real world?"

Haedus huffed and walked angrily away. Draco always enjoyed belittling any potential friends he had and forcing other children stay from him.

Haedus' arm hung over the banister of the second-floor balcony. He expected to be disappointed in his father's idea of a soiree. He much rather be enjoying some intelligent banter and classical music than the brutish combat with dragons. In a sense, Haedus was too rational and too stern to be a boy of eleven; he lacked the childish whims of many children had sorely demanded.

The heir wishfully contemplated the idealistic world he would like to live in.

The stranger's dark navy robes was laced with a layer of Notice-Me-Not charms. He was hit with a wave of familiar nausea as he met with the crimson eyes of the stranger. Yet, he had never even met the man. He took a careful glance at the man, but the stranger had took notice of him already.

"It is rude to stare at a person for long periods of time." The wavy haired man stated offhandedly.

Haedus childishly pouted and pointed his index finger accusingly at the stranger. "I don't think you were invited to this party." Haedus stated; his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Nonsense. I suppose you were not invited either – with those manners of yours." The

Haedus let out an irritated sigh before retorting, "I'll have you know that I am Haedus Potter, the birthday boy."

"Well, I am Thomas Noir; an associate of your father's." Thomas said with a low purr. "You should respect your elders." He looked into the boy's eyes deeply. His gloved hand ghosted affectionately over the smooth, young cheek of the boy.

Haedus growled and slapped the offending hand away before answering, "You should be afraid of me."

"Why should I be afraid of a little bird?" Noir cooed. His chocolaty smooth baritone took up a serious tone, "But I know that little birds can grow strong and devour those whom foolishly dare to attack them. I too was a little bird, but time changes everything. I murdered my father…"

"And married your mother?"

Noir chuckled before saying his last words to Haedus, "I see you soon, little bird."

The mysterious stranger departed by apparating with a quiet pop.

"Rude!" Haedus cried childishly. He was then left alone again with an unsatisfied curiosity.

Unbeknownst to Haedus as he left, the man with the alias, 'Thomas Noir', slowly calculated the prize and potential of his newfound interest. He lusted after any object that belonged to the Hogwarts Founders. It was better than having a diadem of knowledge when you had the true might of a living descendant of Ravenclaw.

* * *

(1) – Devourer of Blood

(2) – 'Pelles Sensim' means to flay slowly; made-up curse

(3) the phrase loosely means 'get the girl in polar blue with gold trimming and the young heir in emerald green with the gold as well.'

A/N: For most translation, I use google or get my French-speaking friends to translate for me. I'm Canadian but not fluent in French :C I have been reading this wondrous story called "Harry Dursley and The Chronicles of the King" by Shadenight123. It's an adventure fanfic and has a lot of camlot references in it as well. You guys should read it if you don't mind 96 chapters of scrolling haha.

Next: Hermione and Haedus goes to Hogwarts plus deeper insight into the Order


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